


Thicker than Water

by dimircharmer



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe: Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Family Dynamics, Gen, Suspense, background budding romantic relationships, complicated but loving family dynamics, feral Keyleth, the friendship version of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimircharmer/pseuds/dimircharmer
Summary: The most stressful week of Percy's life so far starts like this: He falls into a river, and wakes in a Druid's campsite. Stop me if you've heard this one before.-Or: Percy tries to befriend the feral druid he found in the woods, keep his family safe, and get to the bottom of the accidents targeting the de Rolo family, with varying degrees of success.





	1. Chapter 1

Consciousness came to Percy with all the stubbornness of a dog to a bath. He groaned, and began to sit up when he found a hand placed against his shoulder pressing him firmly back to the ground.

“Stay.” The hand left. Percy opened his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” Percy said, and tried to sit up again, “Who-“

There was a flurry of motion, close enough to be genuinely out of focus, and Percy felt the same hand against his chest again.

“ _Stay.”_

Directly in front of his face was a blur of a face hallowed by red hair. Percy slowly retrieved his glasses from their case in his pants pocket, and slipped them on between his own eyes and the eyes of the stranger in front of him. He blinked, and the blur solidified into the face as Percy knew it would. The face in question was filthy. Greasy but well-combed red hair was kept at bay by an antlered circlet, framing a half-elven face. She looked maybe Percy’s own age -not that this appearance necessarily meant anything for anyone of fey ancestry- and her face was covered in smudges of dirt and ash. Percy blinked in surprise.

“Hello,” He said, “Forgive my bluntness, but wherever am I?”

Some of the tension in her face relaxed, and she patted Percy’s chest (Just his undershirt, he realized with some alarm)

“Awake,” She said, and stood up, “Better.”

She turned to poke at something hanging over a fire, and Percy got a good look at everything about the woman in front of him for the first time. Hanging over her shoulders was a tattered fur cloak, with a still vibrantly coloured mantle of leaves, clasped over bare collar bones. She had only a simple leather band around her breasts, and a pair of leggings cinched with a vine covering her hips to knees. Her bare feet shuffled around the camp fire, and as Percy watched, she dipped a cup into a pot boiling over the fire with her bare hands. She presented the cup to him, steaming water dripping off her seemingly unaffected hands.

Percy gingerly accepted the cup, and peered at the contents. There was a small piece of bark floating in the water.

“Drink,” She said, and came right up into Percy’s space again, “It will help-“ She pushed a hand right into Percy’s face, and caressed the hair over his ear. She drew her hand back, and showed him blood on her fingers.

“Oh,” Percy said, and gingerly pressed his own fingers into his scalp, finding a goose egg and a gash that felt maybe three-days healed, “What happened?”

“Drink,” she said again, and helped him sit up, and then sat back on her heels, chin perched on her hands, and watched him.

Percy drank.

“You were-“ She gestured to her own head, fingers narrowly avoiding her massive antlered headdress, “In the river.

“In the river! But there are nothing but rapids and white-water between here and farmland!”

She nodded, “Idiot.”

“Well, that’s just uncalled for,” Percy said, amused despite himself, “I didn’t mean to go in the river, you know. My brother dragged me out on a hunting trip and I lost my footing.”

He could picture it very clearly, now that he had his senses about him- the gut-lurching sensation of the ground beneath his feet giving way, the snapshot-glimpses of his brother turning around at his yell of alarm, of Professor Anders, arm extended to grab him too far away, and then the frigid sensation of being plunged into glacial-melt water.

“You pulled me out, then?” He asked,

The half elf nodded, pleased.

“Then I thank you. I would certainly be dead, otherwise.”

“Yes,” she said, and stood up again. Percy took another sip of the vile bark concoction that she had brewed as he watched her make her way slowly around the fire, and behind a tree on the other side. She re-emerged carrying a bundle of cloth which she unceremoniously dropped in Percy’s lap. He lifted one edge to discover the cuff of his coat, apparently none the worse for the wear for their mutual adventure in a set of mountain rapids. He looked back up at her in surprise.

“Had to dry. You and them,” she gestured to him, “get ready.”

“For- Are we going somewhere?”

She pushed a finger into his chest, “You’re going. Not me. _On._ ”

He obediently shrugged his coat over his shoulders, “You know,” he said, “if I had to wager, I would say that my family would be very willing to reward you for your service today.”

She wasn’t listening to him at all, digging around in her things on the other side of the campfire.

He cleared his throat, “I am very much in your debt, you know. I would greatly appreciate the chance to pay it back.”

She snorted, continuing to pick around by her bedroll before standing back up with a beautiful staff, six feet long and set with a gemstone as big as two hands clasped together. She shook it slightly, and a ripple of wind passed through the campsite.

“Oh!” Percy exclaimed, “You’re- Of course you are, my apologies. That makes a great deal of sense.”

Her eyes widened as he spoke, and encouraged, Percy continued,

“A Druid, am I right? I hadn’t even considered that you might be a magic user for some reason, which is silly of me. You don’t seem to be arcane or divine, no offence meant, and I don’t know of any other naturally based casters.”

Her face, moments before lit and exuberant, shuttered immediately.

“I apologise if I offended, but I’m not mistaken, am I,” Percy asked, “You are a druid?”

The half-elf sighed deeply, pulled Percy up by the elbow, “Yes. One of many, once.”

“I don’t have any idea what that’s supposed to mean,” Percy said, and she tugged him gently along a nearly totally obscured mountain path.

She shrugged and said nothing more, until the two of them emerged at a cliff face dropping steeply away from the forest. It provided a spectacular view of Whitestone, nestled between the mountains in the valley below and the farmland spilling out into the flatlands beyond. Percy immediately took a few steps back from the edge of the cliff. The druid seemed to have no such concerns, and stepped right up to the edge, wind whipping at her hair and cloak. She pointed down into the middle of the valley, where the town square was.

“The City,” She said, “your home?”

“My home, yes, thank you,” Percy said from back in the treeline, “If you could direct me to a footpath down the mountain, I would be much obli-“

The druid stepped directly into him again, grabbed him by his shoulder, and shoved him into a tree. Except- the tree wasn’t there anymore.

Just as Percy was about to receive his second head injury in so many days, the bark seemed to open around him and he stumbled through a tunnel of living wood. He turned to look back, and already the tree was pressing at his shoulders from behind, squeezing him forwards like a bar of soap in a wet fist, and Percy was unceremoniously ejected out the other side of the tunnel, depositing him in Whitestone’s centre square. He turned around, and caught a flash of red hair and a glimmer off the strange druid’s headdress as the hole in the Sun Tree closed behind him.

Percy turned back to face the square, dusting off his jacket, spine straight, as though nothing unusual had happened at all. It was only then that he turned his attention to the surrounding square. Several people were staring at him, which Percy supposed was only to be expected. He stepped down from the raised stone fence surrounding the tree and approached the nearest one of them- a woman with an apple cart who had gone white as a sheet.

“Excuse me,” he said, “would you be so kind as tell me what day it is? I’ve had a bit of an accident, and suspect I might be missing some time.”

“Young lord Percival,” She said,

“That’s right,” Percy said.

“You’ve been dead for two days,” she said.

“Ah,” Percy said, “Then I should get to the castle immediately, if you’ll excuse me. As you can see, I’m quite alive, and I’m sure my family has been worried sick.” He nodded to her, and turned on his heel, walking swiftly up to the castle.

Though he wanted nothing more than to run, he knew that the spectre of a supposedly dead De Rolo springing through the streets of the city would do nothing but inspire panic- he was turning heads as it was. Better to pretend everything was normal, that there was a simple misunderstanding and reach the castle a few minutes later.

By the time he arrived at the castle gates proper, he had attracted something of a procession, city guards and citizens alike following him up the street. Someone apparently had sent word ahead, because the gates were standing open when he arrived, and his parents standing together in the doorway; hands clasped together so tightly two sets of knuckles were white.

“Mother, Father,” Percy said, bowing politely, “My apologies for any grief I may have caused. I suffered an injury up the mountain and only recently regained consciousness. I returned as soon as I was able. Rest assured, no permanent damage was done.”

Fredrick cleared his throat thickly, and laid one massive hand heavily on Percy’s shoulder. His mother’s eyes were red-rimmed, with bags underneath.

“I am sorry,” Percy said softly, “I know I must have frightened you badly with my carelessness.”

His mother sniffed, and placed her hand on his other shoulder to pull him inside the castle, flanked by his parents.

“We have Pelor to thank for your safe return,” she told him, “It is by his mercy we did not lose our two eldest sons that day.”

Percy abruptly felt his stomach drop out from underneath him. “What?”

His father’s arm tightened on his shoulder, less a warning and more a reassurance that Percy was still alive and whole beneath his grasp. “Apparently he jumped in the river after you. Anders was able to pull him out, but-“

“He’s not woken, since,” Percy’s mother continued, “And we are not sure if he ever will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to nail not-traumatized but still basically the same weird dude Percy-voice is so hard rip


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the de Rolos talk about recent events.

Percy’s favourite reading room was full of De Rolos; practically wall-to-wall watery blue eyes, prematurely greying hair and solid jawlines. His mother had always said that the tendency to grey young in the de Rolo family made them look distinguished. In Percy’s opinion it rather gave the impression that Whitestone was marking the ruling family for posterity, that there could be no mistaking which city ran in their blood. Cassandra, only a month ago at fifteen, had found the first strand of grey in her deep chestnut bun, and Percy had been going grey at the temples since before he had stopped growing, and had chosen to abandon his hair to premature salt-and-pepper instead of spending hours in front of the mirror with leather polish as Oliver opted, maintaining instead a greasy brown. Today, though, the worry on their faces made everyone look as though they had earned their grey- had come by it honestly instead of the stones leaching it from their skulls.

“Percy!”

Percy was knocked backwards as Cassandra barreled into his chest.

“Good to see you, little brother,” Vesper’s smile was watery, but genuine.

“We thought we wouldn’t even have a body to bury,” Came Cassandra’s voice from his chest, “Don’t _do_ that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, patting her back. Cassandra abruptly ruined the moment by drawing back and punching him in the shoulder.

“Show some sympathy,” Percy said, “I almost drowned.”

“Idiot,” Cassandra said.

“You know, you’re the second person to tell me that today.” Percy said, “Is Julius….?”

“Not dead,” his mother said. Their parents, apparently satisfied that their children had re-united, entered the sitting room together, still arm-in-arm. “But nothing any of the priests have tried has managed to wake him.”

“Can I see him?” Percy asked, “Where is he?”

His father shook his head, “The priests are keeping him at the temple, under watch in case his condition worsens. Professor Anders has written to a physician he knows, but apparently she is still a week or more away, under ideal riding conditions. There is little any of us can do.”

Across the room, Whitney said something under her breath that made Oliver elbow her in the ribs.

“Keep each other safe,” His mother said, “This is a hard time for all of us. Take care of one another in this time, and keep your tears within these walls. We have a duty to the city that far surpasses our own grief. Chins up, faces on. The city is already concerned- let us not give them a reason to panic.” She sighed and straightened nearly imperceptibly, correcting already perfect posture, "Percival, we have made plans with Vesper we need to inform you of, concerning Julius's health. If the rest of you will excuse us-"

With that, the younger de Rolos started to file out; Whitney and Ludwig were clinging to one another, Oliver shepherding the two of them out. Cassandra gave Percy one last long look as she left, before Vesper shut the door at her nose. Vesper, turned around and leaned against the door, blinking tears out of the corners of her eyes. 

His mother and father took a few steps closer in the now otherwise empty sitting room, practically flanking him. Vesper stood up, but continued to remain between him and the door, arms crossed.

“Percy,” she said eventually, “Please tell us, honestly. What happened out there?”

“I don’t know what you expect to hear,” Percy said, bewildered at the change in atmosphere, “I fell into the rapids off of one of Julius’s game trails. Apparently, I collided with a stone along the way, knocked unconscious. A woods woman fished me out some ways downstream, and healed me, gods know why. She sent me back through the Sun Tree to be rid of me, as far as I can tell.”

"We will speak more about your rescuer in a moment," his mother said, but there's something we need to ask you first."

His father pushed off the chair he was leaning on, and came right up to Percy’s face

“You’re sure it was an accident?”

“Reasonably so,” Percy said, “the ground fell away under my feet, and neither Julius nor Anders was nearby when it happened. It would be quite a thing to start an attempt at the throne with the _third_ in line, anyway.”

The other three remained stone-faced. 

“Percival," his father said, "forgive us, but our first reaction when we heard that you had survived was-“

“That I had- I nearly _died!_  You thought I would -“ Percy sputtered, “I have no desire to rule Whitestone! I have always been _happy_ to let Julius have the privilege! I’m not even next in line, I would have had to-“

“I found a loose bolt in my bed last evening,” Vesper interrupted, “I had tossed a book onto the mattress while I was preparing for bed, and the impact caused the canopy to collapse. If I had been laying in it, it almost assuredly would have killed me.” She said it blandly, but even from halfway across the room Percy could see her hands shaking, "I checked the rooms of the others before coming here, and I found Mother's light stand -right at the base- loose and nearly rusted through. It would have fallen in the night and set their bed ablaze."

Percy staggered towards one of the chairs in the sitting room, and sat heavily. “Who else knows?”

“Outside this room?” His mother asked, “Not a soul.”

“And we will keep it that way,” His father added, taking up on his wife’s other side, “It is a terrible thing to contemplate, but the most likely source of this misfortune is-“

“Inside the castle,” Percy finished. The phrase ‘one of your younger siblings’ hung in the air like smoke, choking the words from their throats, too noxious to even contemplate breathing.

“Right,” Percy said eventually, “What’s to be done, then?”

“When Vesper found the malfunction,” his mother said, “we wrote to a friend in Stilben, who specializes in knowing people. They’ve sent two of theirs to Whitestone, due to arrive tomorrow. As far as we tell anyone, they are a pair of bodyguards from Westruun to protect the family until Julius regains consciousness. And while this is true-”

“They will also be trying to root out the would-be murderer with their sights on our family,” his father continued, voice murderous, “They come recommended. They were part of the team that discovered the Emperor’s possession- and purged it from his halls.”

“Body guarding and demon slaying,” Percy remarked, “that is a highly diversified skill set. Do you think they’ll need it?”

His mother shrugged. “Perhaps this is nothing more than a run of extraordinarily bad luck. But if it is, I would like a team as capable of finding and removing that source of misfortune as finding and stopping a conspirator. These two seem to fit the description nicely.”

"Besides, from what you've told us, we do have an unknown element in the woods." His father said, "Percival, do you know anything about her?"

"Just that she has a predilection for fishing young men out of rivers, which is not much to go on," Percy said, "I don't think she even knew I was nobility until well after I regained consciousness. To be perfectly honest, I don't think she knew much about people in general. She seemed a bit- well. Like someone who had been raised in the woods, frankly."

"Don't be rude, she saved your life, woods or no." His mother said, "Whoever she is, you said she was magical?"

"She carried a staff and sent me through a tree," Percy said, "It's a safe assumption."

"Something else to keep an eye on, then," His father said, "Something to send our investigators to check certainly, when they arrive."

"Is there anything else to do between now and then?" Percy asked, "Other than watch our every step and check our candles before bed?"

“Other than monitor our siblings for their safety and ours?” Vesper said, exhaustion seeping into her voice, “I can think of nothing else. Now, we wait. For whatever comes next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was essentially what boils down to a bunch of OCs talking to one another, but sometimes you just need to drive the plot to the next thing. Next chapter Sunday. I hope that when I finish writing this fic, everyone is still alive, because this is not goign to finish before next thursday and I AM DOUBTFUL everyone's gonna make it out of this Thordak fight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy goes on a voluntary walk in the woods, and has a less voluntary conversation with his youngest sister.

The smartest thing to do would undoubtedly be to stay in the castle, in sight of all of his siblings, where he knew the castle halls as intimately as his own skin. Which is why Percy left Whitestone almost as soon as rising the next morning. Anyone wanting to make an attempt at his life, he reasoned, would know his habits intimately- his favoured chairs, where he kept his supply of tea in the library, the way he worked in his workshop- and it would be safest to avoid all of those habits until such time as the danger had passed.

His workshop in particular, he thought irritably, as he pushed his way through an overgrown game trail, would have to be avoided entirely until he had time to check every pipe valve and bellows for leaks. There was too much that could catch fire, or react excitingly involved in tinkering to make it a safe hobby at the best of times- with a murderous plot or a magical streak of ill fortune loosed upon the castle, setting foot behind the blast door in the bowels of the castle was akin to suicide. Hence, his outdoor excursion this morning.

It was never his chosen method of spending his leisure time, heavens knew, but alone in untrod forest was actually as safe as he was likely to get, given the current circumstances. Even if he had no idea where he was going.

He knew _roughly_ where the druid’s camp was- the view of Whitestone from the cliffs could have been one of only two or three locations – it was the matter of _getting_ there that was proving difficult. He had come across more impassible rock slides, unscalable walls, and unfordable rapids in his morning attempting to find the Druid’s campsite than should reasonably exist on a single face of mountain face. He was staring at a cleft in the rock, trying to decide whether it would be worth the attempt to jump the gap, when he became viscerally aware of something moving in the bush beside him.

He froze, and tried to remember what Julius had told him about encountering bears on the mountain- Was it play dead or make noise? Freeze? Climb a tree? Run?

Out of the bushes stalked not a bear at all, but a mountain tiger, larger than Percy thought they grew, enormous bloody paws padding gently on the cold earth. It approached him curiously rather than as though it were considering Percy a next meal, but it did not take much for an animal twice his body weight and covered in blood to be intimidating. Nor did it take much for even a curious animal of that size to kill a human, even accidentally.

Percy pressed himself back against a tree, attempting to shrink into the bark, as the tiger got close enough he could feel the warmth of it’s breath on his leg. And then, between one step and another with less than a whisper of sound, the cat turned into the druid he had met the day before, now nose to nose with Percy.

She was frowning, made all the more unsettling by the fact that there was dried blood at the corner of her mouth, and staining her hands and forearms.

“You’re back.” She said. It wasn’t a question.

“I am,” Percy said, and presented her the basket he had packet early that morning before leaving the walls of the castle, pushing it between her body and his own like a buffer or a nosy aunt at a ball. She looked down at it briefly before her eyes flicked back up to him, swiping one hand across her face and smearing blood across her cheek.

“My family has come into a run of bad luck,” he said by way of explanation, “and perhaps this is the superstitious of me, but it seemed best not to leave debts to hospitable hosts outstanding while such things are about. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but I did my best.”

She continued to stare at him.

He held the basket out in front of him awkwardly, “If nothing else, it would make _me_ feel much better if you took this.”

She took it, and immediately retreated out of arm’s reach, as if Percy was the one who could turn into wild animals, and control plants at whim.

She began rifling through the basket without even setting it down, hanging it off one arm as she investigated its contents. First out of the basket was a thick woolen shawl, heavy enough to keep out the chill of even Whitestone winters, which to Percy’s relief she immediately wrapped around her hips over her leggings. The steel blade inside was too quickly stashed in the waistband of her skirt, but the small baked buns seemed to give her some pause. She turned one over in her hands, running her thumb over the cracks in the crust.

“They’re better warm, I’m afraid, but they’ve cooled off some since this morning, I suppose if you wanted to heat them over-“ Percy trailed off as the Druid’s hands caught fire, handily toasting the bun before she tore into it with her teeth.

“Well, that’s one way to do it I suppose,” Percy said weakly, “It does make the flint and steel seem like a rather silly gift, however.”

She ignored, him, cheeks stuffed full of hot bread, as she returned to the contents of the basket.

“The rest is more of the same,” Percy said, although she barely acknowledged him, “Some more bread, fresh from the castle baker, a decent wedge of cheese, a small cake of soap, a good steel sewing needle, and a spool of strong thread. I do hope it’s useful.”

She seemed satisfied with the gift, at least, closing the wicker basket and re-adjusting it more securely in her elbow. If one ignored the antlers, the nearly bare torso, and especially the blood she looked the perfect picture of the traveller in the woods; red hair flowing over a fur cloak and charming simple woolen skirt.

“I apologise for not introducing myself properly last time,” Percy said, “and I hope you will blame the lapse on the head injury rather than poor manners,” he bowed deeply, a gesture more appropriate for greeting a visiting Duchess than a hermit squatting in the forest, but no one but the hermit was here to see him indulge in the play. “Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowki de Role the Third, Third in line for the seat of Woven Stone, and Patron of Gathered Crafts, at your service.”

The druid, to his utter shock, took the bun out of her mouth dipped into a curtsy that could have been copied straight out of his mother’s etiquette book. Wrists and arms flowing gracefully, neck bent demurely, hand still clasping the bun extending the edges of the scarf wrapped around her waist as though it was a skirt of silk and velvet.

“Keyleth, Arisen Headmistress of the Air Ashari, bearer of the Stoicheion Coronet, Wielder of the Spire of Conflux, and First Guardian of the Zephyr Rift,” She smiled in delight, “Glad to have your service, Percival of Whitestone.”

Percy blinked in shock. “Beg pardon?”

Keyleth’s smile, large and genuine froze on her face, then faltered, then fell.

“No,” she said, and put her hand against Percy’s cheek, cupping his face, “No. No you- None. None?”

The blankness must have shown on Percy’s face, because the next thing she did was hurl the remains of the bun into the ravine, drop to her knees in the forest and scream loud enough to scare the birds from the trees.

Keyleth stayed where she was, eyes closed, shoulders heaving, kneeling in her new skirt on the ground.

“I-“ Percy gestured to the patch of dirt beside her, “May I?”

Keyleth (her majesty? Her radiance? The great and honourable?) pulled the headdress completely from her hair, and set it gently in her lap. Percy squatted beside her.

“Where are you from, exactly?” Percy asked gently, “I’ve never heard of the Zepher Rift.”

Keyleth’s shoulders hitched, and she buried her head in her hands.

“Oh no, please don’t,” Percy said, suddenly full of alarm, “Whatever I said, I apologise. I’m sure the Ashari are lovely.”

This was, evidently, the exact wrong thing to say, as Keyleth began shaking slightly beside him. Not yet sobbing in earnest, but a very near thing.

“Oh no, I-“Percy laid a hand on her shoulder, and was rewarded by the scrawny but well-muscled Keyleth to wrap barrel completely into his chest. He patted her back awkwardly. She was skinny, bird thin as though the muscles wrapped around her frame were pulled tight against the bone, and she was now shaking violently. He could feel her wrists locked together in the small of his back.

“Alright. I- Hm. Alright.” Percy set his other arm around her and resigned himself to getting back to the castle late, “Take your time.”

-

Keyleth sent him back through a tree he had indicated just outside the castle wall on the mountain side rather than the city side, which let him slip in the gate of a guard tower and back into the castle grounds as though all he had been doing was taking a stroll around his mother’s gardens. Not, apparently, well enough to go unnoticed, because he hadn’t gotten five steps inside the walls before Cassandra called out to him.

“I’m not stupid, you know Percival.”

Percy looked up to see her perched on a raised ledge, maybe half again as tall as he was, posed like she was sitting at a formal banquet.

“Then come down from there and prove it to me,” Percy said.

She obediently slid from the battlement and landed with barely a tap on the dirt, and brushed her skirts daintily before taking Percy’s offered arm.

“I don’t know why you all insist on treating me as though I was still a child,” She said ad they made their way into the castle, “I’m older than you were, when mother and father started involving _you_ in political discussions.”

“And you certainly would have done a better job than I,” Percy said, “I think Anders had to wrestle me out of the workshop twice a day for a year before they gave it up and prayed I’d never take the reins of the city.”

“It's still true that you can’t be wrestled out of your workshop unless you are bedridden or stuffed into finery,” Cassandra said, “Which raises the question of what on earth you were doing _out in the woods_ _while a murderer is loose, Percival.”_

Percy blinked and turned towards her.

“My two eldest brothers almost die and our parent’s hired a pair of bodyguards,” Cassandra said, “I’m not a child. I am capable of putting two and two together even when I’m not invited to the family meetings.”

“To be entirely fair,” Percy said, “Neither were Oliver, Ludwig or Whitney.”

“Well, that’s because Oliver can’t see past his own nose and the twins don’t care about anyone that can’t be bought or taunted,” Cassandra said, which startled a laugh out of him, “I’m serious Percy! They still think it was an accident on a hunting trip!”

“How did you know where I’d be today?” He asked.

“Well, you weren’t in your workshop or bothering mother or father, so you weren’t in the castle, and after the scene you made yesterday I knew you wouldn’t want to walk through town again, and this is the only back entrance to the Castle you know, so-.”

“Beg pardon, are you implying that you know other entrances to the castle?” Percy interjected

Cassandra raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” Percy said, “I can safely check you off my list of potential culprits. If you wanted me dead I’d be dead already.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Percy,” Cassandra said, a smile threatening to break through, “I’d leave you alive as a figurehead and become your confidant in grief, and take the throne without ever putting myself in the firing line. We’d be a wonderful pair, the two of us, by which I mean me and me alone running the city.”

“Of course, how silly of me, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Percy said fondly, “You’re much too smart to murder your way up the entire family tree. And as we’ve established, the members of the family between the two of us are no threat to the throne. What was your plan for keeping me in line, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

“I would appeal to your better nature of course, and convince you it would be best for the city.” She replied without any hesitation whatsoever, “You are not nearly as complicated as you think, brother.”

“But hopefully at least half as clever,” Percy said, prompting a short laugh out of Cassandra before she sobered again.

“Percival, seriously though,” she said, “I am worried. For our family, yes, but also for Whitestone. What will happen to the city, with no de Rolo in the castle. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night out of worry.”

“Of course you worry,” Percy said, “I do too. It’s the burden of being the clever members of the family I’m afraid- we’re perpetually worried for the rest of the bunch.”

Which of course, is the exact moment that the window above them shattered, and a body was launched out of the glass two stories above them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're telling me that Percy, who loves and takes fairy-tales too seriously, wouldn't try to repay the wildwoman in the woods when his family looked like they were under a curse? Nah.
> 
> Also, Matt Mercer confirmed on twitter that there are weird Whitstone nobility titles, and I couldn't be happier. We all know about grand mistress of the wild hunt, of course, but there are others too! Cassandra's in canon is Guardian of Woven Stone, which I assume is the title of the sitting ruler of the city, but that means that ALL THE WHITESTONE KIDS HAVE DUMB TITLES. We're all so blessed.
> 
> Next update Tuesday or Wednesday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bodyguards arrive.

The body- or as it was made clear quickly, pair of bodies, hit the ground with enough lateral force create a small ditch in the garden where it landed. His mother was the body on the top of the pile, face down, and there was a hand wrapped around the back of her skull, which held her tightly to the other figure’s chest. Their mother groaned slightly, and rolled off of the man below her- a half elf in dark leathers. The man sat up immediately, gently lifting Johanna off him and setting her on the ground in front of Percy and Cassandra before rocking to his feet.

His eyes flicked over the two of them. “You’re other de Rolos then?”

Cassandra had produced a knife from somewhere in her skirts and was pointing it at the man, who seemed utterly unconcerned.  “What did you do to our mother?”

“Saved her life, likely as not,” He said, and this was punctuated by another crash-tinkle from the floor above, followed by a string of curses floating out the window.

The man cupped his hands to his mouth “Sister!” He called, “Knock it out the window!”

“Easier said than done!” came the retort, followed by a pair of heavy impacts.

The man in front of them glanced down at Johanna, before back up to the window, with a dagger with the blade between his fingers poised to throw at whatever emerged from the hole. Percy’s mother saw the dagger in Cassandra’s grasp, tisked, and pulled it from her hand, and brandished it in a grip that looked much more practiced than Cassandra’s own.

“Should I come back up there?” The man called, and then there was a very rapid pair of impacts, before a shape was launched out the window.

And Percy really couldn’t define it any better than a shape- It was almost entirely invisible, just the very edges of the creatures caught the light strangely giving him a split second glimpse at the figure before the half elf tossed three daggers into the air in quick succession, with all the finesse of a juggler in a travelling circus. They hit their mark, one after the other after the other, and came to a halt eerily in midair. There was a split second pause, before the thing they were buried in gave an unholy shriek.

“The oil, Vex’ahlia, the one with the holy oil, now!” The man called, and a third arrow slammed into the creature, with fetching of a different colour, and this time when the creature shrieked it seems to dissipate like so much mist in the sun, and three arrows and three daggers clattered to the ground.

The man retrieved them, tucking the former into his belt and the latter under one arm, before turning back to Percy’s mother.

“Lady Johanna,” he said, clasping her hands, “Are you alright?”

“I am quite unharmed, thank you,” she said, patting his hand once before releasing them, and begun the process of tucking flyaway pieces of hair back into it’s formal bun. “What on earth was that thing?”

The man straightened back up, and if he was at all injured by hurling himself and their mother out a second story window, he did not show it. “Ma’am, to be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure. We’ve met air elementals before, you know, and this was similar, but I hesitate to say they were the same thing. There was something, if you’ll excuse the technical terminology, a little hinky about this one. My sister should be able to tell you more, this is more her speed than mine.”

He rubbed the edge of his sister’s arrow, and Percy could see just the slightest shimmer of- something- caught on the barbs.

“She'll know the particulars far better than I will.” He continued, “And she’s still up with your husband, Lady de Rolo,” He looks over at Percy and Cassandra, “And your father, I assume? You all have the same sort of look about you, not that I necessarily have stones to throw, in the family resemblance department.”

Their mother nods. “Children, this is Vax’ildan Vessar, one of the two investigators we’ve hired in from Westruun.”

“Sir Vessar, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Cassandra said, and inclined her head politely, as the half-elf winced.

“Ooh, no, that will get very complicated,” he said, “If you’ll excuse the informality, first names, with me and my sister, if you please. Far less confusing.”

“Of course,” Percy said, “And your names are?”

“Vax’ildan and Vex’ahlia.”

“Much less confusing,” Percy agreed sardonically. Vax’ildan, in response, revealed he was capable of an exceptional shit-eating grin.

“Brother!” the other bodyguard- Vex’ahlia, Percy supposed, poked her head out the shattered window, “Are you ever going to come back upstairs? We do have actual business to discuss, you know.”

Her braid dangled perilously close to the shattered glass, and there was a bow slung across her body. She was the spitting image of her brother.

“Dear god you’re twins,” Percy said faintly, “This won’t be confusing at all.”

“It won’t be unless you let it, dear,” called Vex’alhia, from what Percy had apparently erroneously assumed was _out of earshot_. “There are only two of us, which hopefully isn't too complicated for you to keep track of. Actually, you should all come up. Your father’s gone off to fetch your eldest sister, so we can talk about this all together.” She disappeared back into the upper story.

Vax’ildan clasped his hands together, and looked expectantly at the three de Rolos.

“I suppose you don’t know your way around the castle, do you?” Percy said, leading the way.

“Not really,” Vax’ildan agreed cheerfully, “although I did get here less than two hours ago, and most of those hours was signing contracts, so I hope that can be forgiven.”

“Entirely fair,” Percy said, “Although I am curious how contract signing led to my mother being launched out a window.”

“Myself as well, actually,” said Percy’s mother, “I noticed some papers flutter, and you and your sister just-“

“Started swinging wildly at empty air?” Vax’ildan finished, “I can imagine how that looks, yes. But no, we had seen something like that before- air elementals have been increasingly common for the last few years, but as I’ve said, this was different. More directed.”

“It was conjured!” Vex’ahlia appeared in the doorway, “I’m almost certain of it. No natural creature acts like that one did. Things will turn tail and flee, or defend themselves against the people wielding pointy objects at them, rather than attempt to pursue a single target even in face of their own death. This one was very intent on having you dead, Lady Johanna.”

She brushed some dirt of her knees, and gestured for the rest of them to come inside. “The two of you must be Percival and Cassandra? And Lady Johanna, I do apologise, I hope you weren’t harmed by the way we removed you from the danger here.”

The study was in disarray, as though there had been a very localized windstorm within, which Percy supposed wasn’t far from the truth. Papers are scattered wildly, one of the bookshelves has been tipped over, and the sturdy oak table he had seen his father conduct business so many times was almost barren on top- the papers and maps and missives usually on the top of the desk scattered about the room. Vex’ahlia had retrieved the contract from the mess of papers on the floor, and spread it across the barren table.

“Now,” she said, “You did tell us coming in to this contract that you thought someone was trying to kill you. You absolutely did _not_ tell us that the person trying to kill you was a magic user. We charge somewhat more for that, I’m afraid. Greater risk to us, you know how these things go.”

Vex’ahlia quirked an eyebrow at Johanna, and despite the jovial tone of her voice, there was absolute steel underneath.

“We do not take any of the lives in this castle, ours or yours, lightly, but this is our craft, and we are _very_ good at it. We desire proper compensation for services offered, is all.”

“I- yes.” Johanna said, and took up her place at the table again, as Vex’alhia split her attention between the contract being altered, and the scrap of elemental that was caught on the tip of her arrow which she retrieved from her brother. She caught Percy’s eye and grinned at him.

“Chin up dear,” she said, “There is some good news to come out of all of this, after all.”

“What would that be?” Percy asked gamely.

“Well darling,” She winked at him, “now you have us on the case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love it when canon works in your favour? On a related note, did you know that invisible stalkers are kin to air elementals?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy has a pair of conversations.

Thicker than Water, chap. 5

 

“Keyleth?” Percy called, “I don’t have any idea where you are, nor the ability to find you. I have something I was hoping to speak with you about.”

 

He stood the middle of the woods, hands on his hips, before raising them back to cup his mouth.

 

“I feel very silly out here yelling at the trees,” he said again, “and I promise not to yell if you come as a bear or something.”

 

There was a rustling behind him, before a bear the size of a draught horse did in fact emerge from the underbrush, snuffling curiously.

 

“Ah,” Percy said, “there you are. You know, I was just wondering if-“

 

He was cut off with a yelp as something huge seized him under one shoulder, and lifted him clean off his feet. Percy grabbed desperately onto the thing that had hold of him lest he be dropped, and craned his neck up to see a massive feathered underbelly, and the tips of flapping wings on the downstroke.

 

He called out to it, but the wind of the flight tore the words from his mouth, and Percy attempted to wrap his arms more firmly around the thing’s talons, his own legs kicking freely in open air. After a flight that went on for far too long (likely less than two minutes) it deposited Percy gently in Keyleth’s original campsite, before lifting off to circle. Percy could now see it was a giant eagle, wingspan wider than he was tall, and beak and talons sharp as steel. It dove back to the other side of the campsite, and turned back into Keyleth in time for her to tuck and roll across the packed earth, standing with an array of pine needles stuck in her hair. She met his gaze, and gestured at him helplessly.

 

“I just tried to make conversation with a wild bear, didn’t I?” Percy asked.

 

“Why,” Keyleth said. There was a smile teasing at the corner of her mouth, nearly laughing.

 

“Now, to be fair, I don’t have any idea what you’re going to look like each time I see you, your majesty. I was hedging my bets.” Percy dug in his jacket pocket, “Also, I brought you some more buns.”

 

Keyleth edged cautiously towards him, and took the bun from his hand at arm’s leangth but didn’t retreat back to her end of the campfire when she had it. Progress.

 

“Don’t call me that,” she said.

 

“My apologies,” Percy said, “I tried to find the Ashari peerage in one of the old bloodlines books, but didn’t have any luck. I’m not sure what the proper honorific is. Your grace? Honoured Keyleth? Princess?”

 

Keyleth retreated, shaking her head.

 

“Just Keyleth?” Percy guessed. Keyleth stopped retreating, but didn’t come any closer.

“Keyleth, please come back. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

She stayed where she was, and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

 

“I have something that might interest you,” Percy said, and pulled a folded handkerchief from his pocket. “Or at least, I hope it will. I was hoping you could tell me something about it, as a matter of fact. Would you like to see?”

 

He held it out in his hand, still covered by the handkerchief.

 

Keyleth sniffed.

 

“Keyleth, it might interest you to know that my family was attacked yesterday afternoon,” Percy said, “Just after I made my way back, in fact. My mother nearly lost her life.”

 

He took a step towards her, and then another. “She would have died, in fact, had we not hired a pair of bodyguards, because you see, we were attacked not by a person, or even a beast, but by an elemental, summoned and bound by a magic user.”

 

Percy took another step forwards. Keyleth had turned her head away from him, but didn’t move back.

 

“Keyleth,” Percy opened his handkerchief, revealing the fragment of invisible stalker that had been caught on Vex’ahlia’s arrow the day before, “please tell me, is this your doing?”

 

She took one look at the contents of the handkerchief, screeched, and hit it out of his hand, eyes darting desperately between him and it.

 

Percy dusted his hands off on his coat, and took another step towards Keyleth who was breathing heavily.

 

“I don’t know what you intend here,” Percy said, “And the only reason I haven’t told the entire castle guard exactly where you are and what I know you’re capable of is the fact that you saved my life when we first met. I may be many things, but at least I am not ungrateful. So you have bought yourself the benefit of the doubt. I would like to be perfectly clear: This doubt has bought you this conversation, but if you are putting my family in danger, I will forsake whatever debt I owe you, and leave aside the mystery you pose. I do not have any idea if you are lying, about your title and your kingdom and whatever else, but I would like to emphasize that I will toss that aside in an instant for my family’s wellbeing.”

 

Keyleth sniffed, and bent down to scoop up Percy’s handkerchief, and the scrap of aether within it. It wound around her fingers, like a ghostly, formless snake.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to it, and she blew gently into her fingers.

 

As Percy watched, the scrap of material re-inflated to the full, terrible form it had been before the Vessar twins had killed it, barely visible but menacing nonetheless, ripples of air giving the suggestion of teeth and talons and a form hulking and transient enough to be nigh impossible to land a blow on. Percy scrambled backwards and fumbled in his coat for the dagger he had brought just in case, not that he thought he would be able to do more than swing it through empty air. The thing coalesced out of wind and dust in front of him, and Percy hysterically wondered if he would ever be buried properly, or just left for bear food on the forest floor.

 

Just as he thought as much, Keyleth stepped directly into it’s body, gale-force wind whipping her hair and cloak around her face, which was nearly serenely calm. She did something complicated with her hands, even as the entity began lifting her off the ground, her back arched and toes just scraping the dirt below. As Percy watched, the entity surrounding her began to shift and change. The talons became simply arms, tendrils of wind and breeze, and the evocation of fangs faded to the impression of a simple face, possessed only of eyes and a nose. The thing elongated, and shrank again, and gently deposited the now thoroughly windswept Keyleth gently back on the ground, before retreating perhaps two steps away.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and took one step towards it before making a tearing motion with her hands. A rift, a tiny tear, seemed to open, and the elemental was sucked through to the other side, where Percy could see nothing but clouds and open air. Almost as soon as it opened, Keyleth wrenched it closed again, and the clearing was suddenly still and silent as though no storm had blown through at all.

 

Keyleth sniffed, and wiped at her eyes.

 

“Corrupted,” she said, “put it right.”

 

Percy quietly sheathed his dagger. “What do you mean?”

 

“Our job. It was our job. My responsibility to keep them,” She gestured, and a little torrent of wind flew from her fingertips, “Safe. Uncorrupted. Contained.”

 

She sniffed again. “Rift tore. Was torn. She said she wanted to  _ learn _ , wrote everything down. Looked at the rift for hours and hours. Taught me how the rest of the world was. We trusted her. I trusted her. And then she brought the rest. And they killed everyone. I was supposed to  _ protect  _ them. And I ran.”

 

She handed Percy back his handkerchief.

 

“Ran for years and years. I think they’re coming here next.”

 

“The one who took notes?” Percy said.

 

Keyleth shook her head. “ _ All. _ She was just the first. They’re all coming. But she is here.” She pointed at the handkerchief again. “Learned that from us. Broke it, bound it. Bent it to her will. Not right.”

 

“And this woman, you know she’s coming here?” Percy asked.

 

Keyleth nodded, and turned to her small campsite, digging in the basket Percy had given her before withdrawing a lady’s glove, brown with age and bloodstained at the wrist.

 

“When it opened, she-“ Keyleth made a crushing gesture, one hand over the other, “And I took it. I can use it to find her. She’s coming here.”

 

She tucked the glove away.

 

“Have you been tracking them?” Percy asked, “The ones who did that to the rift?”

 

“Yes,” Keyleth said.

 

“How long?”

 

Keyleth bit her lip, and did some math on her fingers. “Fifteen,” she said eventually.

 

“Years?” Percy asked in alarm.

 

Keyleth nodded. “Got close once. Couldn’t even scratch her. Don’t think she even noticed me.”

 

“What was her name?”

 

“Ripley.”

-

“You know darling, it’s people like you who make our jobs more difficult than they have to be.”

 

Percy didn’t even hear her come into the library, but there was Vex’ahlia Vessar, leaning casually against a bookshelf, braid pulled carefully over one shoulder.

 

“People like me?” he asked, “Pray tell, who would those be, Miss Vessar, the ones in the library doing research on what might be happening in my family’s home?”

 

She craned her neck and cocked and eyebrow at the title of his book, “Looking for answers in  _ Tyriok’s Complete Guide to the Monastic, Religious and Spiritual Orders of Tal’dorei? _ .”

 

“You never know what sort of information is tucked away in unexpected places,” Percy said, and closed the book on his finger to look at her properly. “What kind of person makes your life difficult, precisely?”

 

“People who we’re hired to protect who have no regard for their own lives, of course.” She picked at one of her arrows. “You only get a miracle once, Lord Percival.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” he said. “Who said anything about a miracle?”

 

“Have you not heard?” She raised her eyebrows in mock alarm, “Why, the people in Whitestone have been talking about it all week. The prodigal son of the city, saved by the Sun Tree itself, to preserve the family line. It spat you out in the middle of town, after all. The ruling family, shown favour by the founding god himself. Did you think they wouldn’t talk?”

 

“To be perfectly honest, I had very little control over where I was returned,” Percy said, “It was less of an intended outcome and more of an incident I frankly would rather have avoided.”

 

“Really?” Vex said, “Is that why you keep going back out to the woods?”

 

Percy shifted to face her directly, tucking the book against his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

 

Vex actually laughed at this. “Oh dear, if you’re going to lie, you should be a little more convincing about it!” She brushed past his shoulder on the way out the door, and whispered in his ear, “I notice when someone touches my arrows, darling, and you’ve got dirt on the  hem of your coat. Do be more careful in the future.”

  
She slipped back out the door, leaving Percy alone with his book, and he shivered. Uncomfortably aware of having made another enemy, Percy shifted to a back corner of the library and re-opened his book to a trio of blank pages in the middle of the chapter on wardens of natural spaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everybody, the delay was on account of family visiting etc.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy orders a book

On his way out to town the next day, Percy finds Vex up a watchtower looking down at the streets of Whitestone and shivering.

“Lord Percival,” she greets without looking at him.

“Good lord, do you not have a set of furs?” Percy asks, “You must be freezing.”

At this, she does look down at him, her in her leather armour and him in a fur-lined coat, both of their breaths misting in the air. Her hands were tucked into the pits of her arms.

“Do you not even have a pair of mittens?” Percy asks.

“It’s a little hard to draw a bow without use of all your fingers, darling.” She says.

“I imagine it cannot be easy to draw a bow with frostbitten fingers either,” Percy replies, “I’m about to go into town, will you be obligated to follow me if I do?”

She grins back down at him, “I was actually waiting for you to come out of that dismal castle, Percival,” she said, “You always seem to go somewhere interesting, and I thought I might tag along this time.”

“Do I get a say in the matter?”

She pauses for a moment, pretending to consider his offer. “No, I don’t think you do,” she says, “I rather think you gave up that privilege the second time you slipped out to the middle of the forest without telling anyone where you were g”

“Am I a suspect, then?” he asks.

She hops off the wall, and lands neatly beside him. “Of course you are darling,” She links her arm with his own, and immediately tucks her hand back into her coat, out of the cold. “And if you’re nearly as clever as I think you are, you would suspect us as well.”

“To be perfectly honest, it’s very reassuring,” Percy says, “If you and your brother were the ones trying to kill us all off, you would hardly come out of the gate throwing accusations at me.”

Percy, with her arm in his, spins them, turning them around to walk them back to the castle. Vex shoots him an amused glance. “Was that enough to turn you around, then?”

“Hardly,” Percy says, “But I do know that if we go out together, and something tries to kill me, I’d much rather you be warm enough to shoot, and that my sister Vesper has a set of furs she never wears in about your size, and she keeps them in the cloakroom rather than her own room.”

He pushes the door open, and roots around in the cloakroom for a moment before emerging with Vesper’s cloak and muff, handing them to Vex. “These should help at least,” he said, “You will need your own at some point, though. Whitney won’t stay in the castle forever, much as I would like her to.”

Vex throws the coat, long and furred, over her shoulders. “But you have business in town that couldn’t possibly wait until a murderer is caught or a curse is lifted?”

“By the time it is, the purpose of my trip will have been rendered quite moot, actually.” Percy replies, and continues, taking her arm again as he leads them towards town. “By the way, you wouldn’t have happened to hear of a people called the Ashari, in your travels, have you?”

“The Ashari,” Vex bites her lip, clearly deep in thought even though her eyes never stop in their scan of rooftops and faces in the crowd, “can’t say I have. Why do you ask?”

“No one has,” Percy says. “Not half a dozen accounts of religious orders on the continent, not a professor versed in every fairytale and folk story this land has to offer, not a single map with any of their territory marked on it.”

Vex raises an eyebrow, “and you care about this make-believe organization because…?”

“Because I know they existed,” Percy says, “They don’t exist, but there are empty borders on maps, correspondence records with replies missing, whole branches scrubbed out of genealogical records-“

“Empty pages in books,” Vex muses.

“Precisely.” Percy says, “So what I’m attempting to discover, is if this is a localized effect, if someone or some _thing_ is trying to keep that information from anyone in Whitestone castle.”

“And you think that someone well planned enough to wipe every family tree in a noble house, they could be circumvented by going to the market and asking nicely for a different book?”

“Of course not,” Percy says, “I’m going to order one from abroad.”

“And be dead before it arrives, you realize, if your grand plan for solving this mystery is to wait for a _book_ to arrive, _"_  Vex says as they round the corner onto Whitestone’s main street.

To say that Whitestone had a city plan would be generous. It had grown, as old cities built by generations rather than architects were wont to do; which is to say crookedly and tightly packed, with shops and homes heaped on top of each other for support. The city radiated from the Sun Tree and the one central processional boulevard leading between the Sun Tree and the castle proper, which had been cleared of houses by some enterprisingly pompous ruler five generation’s up Percy’s family tree. The tree of course, was untouched, in the city’s largest square, a meeting place under it’s branches for hawkers and trysts and children alike. The rest of the city was a warren of streets, narrow alleys which were sunlit only a few hours a day in the height of summer- in the late fall sun, the slanted light cast them all in perpetual shadow. The early morning light seemed pale and weak even in the wide central street and mist not yet burnt off in the morning warmth curls around their feet as they walked through.

Beside him, Vex shivers. “You really live here all year round?”

“Wouldn’t want to live anywhere else,” Percy says, “Come now, the shop’s just off the main way.”

“And you think that there’s going to be important information in this book of yours?” Vex asks.

“No, in fact,” Percy says, “Although I would consider it a bonus. Mostly what I’m trying to discover through this gambit is who has been doctoring the books, because if I were them, I’d have an eye on the books coming into the city as well as an eye on whoever was placing orders for new ones.”

“Oh!” Vex says, “You should have just said that first darling, that’s what my brother and myself are for.”

“Beg your pardon?” Percy says.

“Unless you feel inclined to stake out a bookstore in the late Whitestone fall, and have five years experience walking unobserved in city alleys,” Vex says, “I’m not entirely sure how you meant to catch them.”

“I really can’t say that I thought that far ahead, to be perfectly honest,” Percy says, “I had hoped something would occur to me on the walk. And it has! And, considering it now, if you’re brother’s so inclined I think I have something interesting that I can use to make his watch a little more- exciting.”

“Exciting how?”

“Exciting explosive.”

“Percival,” Vex said, “I want you to know that I’m not just saying this because your mother is giving us rather a lot of money. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, two month wait. Sorry folks. let's all blame the depression and move on? next update later this week/this time next week.


End file.
